


Pictures of Penny

by PrincessSunflower



Series: Thank You for Seeing Me 'Verse [4]
Category: Deadpool (Comics), Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ben Parker - Freeform, Feels, Gender Identity, Gender Issues, Light Angst, M/M, Thank You for Seeing Me 'Verse, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, pre-transition Peter, trans!peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:54:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrincessSunflower/pseuds/PrincessSunflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wade finds a box of old pictures at Aunt May's house and gets some insight into Peter's childhood.</p><p> </p><p>Part of the "Thank You for Seeing Me" Universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pictures of Penny

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place sometime during the events that have already happened in Thank You for Seeing Me, after Wade has met Aunt May. I envision this to be happening on a day where Peter is at school or work.
> 
>  
> 
> There is quite a bit of gender discussion in this one, so I'll let you guys know now that male and female pronouns are used in reference to Peter. None of it is purposefully hurtful in any way and I don't think it's anything that would cause bad feelings.

The sun was shining brightly as Wade walked down the New York City sidewalk. Technically Queens, but whatever. The weather was pleasant enough that he wasn’t sweating through his hoodie and the streets seemed to smell less of garbage than usual. He wasn’t even bothered by the shocked double-takes his unmasked face caused when someone got a glance under his hood.

{Aww. He’s gettin’ all mushy because he’s in loooooove,} the white box teased, prompting Wade to roll his eyes. 

_‘Shut up, so are you,’_ Wade thought back, smiling to himself. Wade knew he was right. Both of the boxes were just as fixated on Peter as he himself was. But, he knew Whitey was also right. Wade’s general attitude about everything had mellowed out since he and Peter had fallen for each other. There just seemed to be less to complain about when you were happy. 

[Please don’t turn into one of those guys who whistle to themselves walking down the street,] Yellow complained, [That’s just annoyingly happy. And it would look terrifying as shit if we did it.]

{OMG, right!? Can you imagine walking home all alone and seeing this hulking tower of meat mush whistling like an insane person?}

[I don’t think that simile works if he _is actually_ an insane person.]

“I’m not that bad.”

[You say aloud to the voices in your head.]

 _‘Touché,’_ Wade acquiesced, in his head this time. He wasn’t going to let himself be caught up his boxes’ antics today. That’s what he told himself as he stopped in front of his destination. He walked up the few stone steps and rang the doorbell. After a moment, the door opened. 

“Wade,” May said kindly, her expression holding genuine smile.

“Hi, Mrs. May. It’s good to see you again,” Wade smiled back as the woman ushered him into the foyer. 

“It’s good to see you too, dear,” she said, startling Wade by greeting him with a hug, “And I told you, call me Aunt May.”

“O-okay,” the merc stuttered, carefully returning the hug after he regained his composure. He fought to swallow down his initial instinct of _‘I don’t deserve this. I’m not worth it.’_ He didn’t know _what_ the deal was with these Parkers and their tear-jerking magic hugs.

“Would you like some tea before we get down to it?” May asked as she started walking to the kitchen.

“Yeah, that’d be great,” Wade said, following her through the townhouse. “Here, let me do it,” he said, taking the teakettle out of her hands before she could make any headway. “You go sit down.”

“Wade, you know I’m not _that_ old,” Aunt May snickered, sitting down at one of the chairs at the small kitchen table. “Do I need to dye over my grey hair?”

“What? Of course not, Aunt May!” Wade said animatedly, filling the kettle with water, “You don’t look a day over twenty-nine.”

She hit him with a dry look. “Wade, I said I’m not that old. What makes you think I’ve already gone blind?” 

The sound of Wade’s loud laughter filled the small room. “So that’s where Peter gets his sarcasm from,” he prattled, bringing their teas to the table, “I have a friend that’s blind. Well, two actually. One is a bitter, grumpy old woman. She’s the best. And the other one is one of the vigilante-slash-hero crowd, ya know?”

“A blind superhero?” May asked curiously, sipping her tea.

“Yep. He echolocates like a bat or something. Hey, did you know bats aren’t actually blind? That expression ‘blind as a bat’ makes no sense. Because bats can see with their eyes AND have that sonar thing goin’ on. So to them, _we’re_ the blind ones.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell my friend, Lucille!” Aunt May exclaimed, banging her hand on the table. “She doesn’t believe me! And she thinks the internet is run by vagrants, so I can’t even show her Google results.”

“What you should do,” Wade started, “is get an encyclopedia, bring it to her house… and beat some sense into her with it! For the reputation of bats everywhere, Lucille’s gotta go.”

By this time, Aunt May had her head thrown back in laughter. Wade took notice and smiled, happy that he could make the kind, caring woman laugh. “You know, Wade,” May said when she had regained poise, “I was excited when you took me up on my offer to teach you how to crochet.”

“I’m excited you said yes! I’m gonna get really good and challenge Petey to a web-making competition. You have to teach me good so I can win,” Wade informed her.

“Well we better not waste any time then,” May chuckled, standing up to make her way into the living room. “I’ll go find the crochet needles. Would you mind grabbing the yarn basket? It’s on the top shelf of the closet in the hall, there.”

“Sure!” Wade called and walked to the small hallway, pulling open the closet door. 

{Why do all hall closets smell nostalgic?}

[What the hell kind of statement was that, you dipshit?]

{Can you call me something other than dipshit?}

[Like what?]

Wade shook his head and tuned out the boxes. Though he wasn’t about to admit it, he agreed with the white box. The closet had that smell of old leather, cardboard boxes, winter coats, and wood that was just so… closet. It wasn’t just some place for storage. It held years of contents, keepsakes, and mementos of a family, a _home_. His eyes flitted over the pile of quilts, the stacked boxes that bore words of their contents written in marker. He saw one that said “scarves,” another that said “Peter’s Academic Awards.” The little nerd. There were a few jackets that looked like they had belonged to a man. 

Wade stood staring, entranced by the closet’s mundaneness. It was strange because he didn’t have that, and if he ever did in the past, he sure didn’t remember it. Sure, he had a gun closet, full of ammo and firearms. But that wasn’t the same. Wade felt an indescribable emotion when he absently wondered what would be in his hall closet, if he had a family. He tried his best to ignore the tiny spark in the back of his mind, saying _‘Maybe some day.’_

Deciding that he had weirdly stared at an open closet for long enough, he looked up to the top shelf. He saw the yarn basket that Aunt May had sent him for, pushed back into the corner. When he tried to wedge himself into the tiny closet to reach it, his elbow knocked a small box off the shelf. 

“Shit,” he mumbled, pulling out of the closet and praying to Thor that whatever was in the box wasn’t breakable. He looked down to see that the floor around his feet was now littered with scattered photographs. He knelt to the floor with the intention of quickly gathering them together to put them back into the box, but stopped when he got a look of the pictures. They were all old, some classic Polaroid style, others slightly less old, developed from a camera film. And they all seemed to be family photos of some kind or another. He picked one up off the floor when he saw a familiar face. It was of a younger May, smiling and standing with a man somewhere outdoors and pretty. There was a little girl between them, holding one of each of their hands and looking down from the camera shyly. 

Wade picked up another one. This one was of a pretty woman, holding a tiny baby, swaddled in a pink blanket. She was smiling brightly down at the little bundle in her arms. 

Another one was a candid shot of the same little girl from the first picture, playing in a grassy backyard on a sunny day. She was younger in this one, looking to be about three years old. She was laughing as she ran through a water sprinkler. Her hair was in pigtails and it looked like someone had painted her little toenails to match her purple, sparkly swimsuit. 

Wade was reaching for another photo when he heard footsteps and jerked to attention. A second later, May turned the corner, most likely in search of Wade, wondering what was taking so long. Her eyebrows raised slightly when she set sights on the scene. 

“I’m sorry! The box fell when I was reaching for the yarn,” Wade apologized quickly, moving to clean up the mess. He stopped when Aunt May kneeled down on the floor with him. She picked a photograph up and studied it, just as Wade had. A small smile appeared on her lips as she stared at the picture. 

“Mmmh,” the older woman hummed softly, her eyes locked onto the photo, “You found the ‘Penny Box.’”

Wade’s brow line drew down in confusion before shooting up in sudden realization of what he had been looking at. “This is… these are…Peter? These pictures are all of Peter?”

“Yes,” May nodded, “He won’t let me keep them out. So I keep them in this box, in the closet. Tsk. Such a shame. They’re so cute.” She smiled to herself as she flipped through a small stack. “But I understand why it would upset him.”

Wade looked down at the pictures in his hand as May spoke. He shuffled them to find the first one he had seen, the one with May in it. He stared at it, trying to see something of Peter in the girl.

“That’s my late husband, Peter’s Uncle Ben,” May said, pointing to the man holding the little girl’s other hand. She sighed, not unhappily, more as if lost in memory. “Ben loved that kid to pieces. Right up until the day he passed.”

“Peter doesn’t bring him up much,” Wade admitted somberly after a quiet moment, “I think it hurts him too much to talk about.”

“I can imagine,” Aunt May nodded, “Those two were very close.” She sighed one of those remembering sighs again. “My boys….” She said, her voice a bit sad, “I remember when Peter told Ben that he wanted his new middle name to be Benjamin. Oh, I can’t remember a more touching moment. Ben was so proud of Peter. He always was.”

Wade nodded sincerely. The two fell into a comfortable silence as May took her time looking through the pictures as she picked them up. One of the pictures that was facing upwards caught the merc’s attention. It looked to be a girl of about eleven. Her arms were crossed in an obvious “I don’t want to be here” pout. 

May breathed a laugh when she saw the picture Wade was holding. “I remember that day. Penny had won an award from her school and Ben was trying to take a picture. Oh, how she hated to be in front of a camera…. Everyone was always telling her that such a pretty little girl should smile for pictures.”

“Ouch,” Wade mumbled.

“I know,” May sighed. This sigh was different, deeper. “We didn’t know, then, what he was feeling. I’m not sure he even knew.”

Wade sat quietly through Aunt May’s musings. His attention was captured by these moments of insight to Peter’s past. And he didn’t want to interrupt her thinking. And besides, they were having a moment, dammit. 

Wade moved the picture towards her when she leaned over, touching the picture over the brunette braid that fell over eleven-year-old Penny’s shoulder. “I forgot how long her hair was,” May said, “Or, _his_ hair?... I’m sorry, I’m still not exactly certain how to refer to Peter when he was young.” She picked up another picture, holding it so that Wade could see. It was another picture of a toddler-aged Penny. She was at the beach, adorned in another girly one piece swimsuit. She was smiling hugely into the camera, proudly displaying her fistfuls of wet sand. “It’s odd to look at this little girl and call her Peter,” she continued quietly, “Though, I can only imagine how odd it must have felt for Peter to have ever been called Penny.” 

“This is really weird…” Wade murmured, scanning his eyes over all of the pictures, “These are just so different from how I see him.”

“I would assume that he’s grateful for that,” Aunt May said, straightforwardly. She grabbed another small handful of photos, passing through them slowly. “Ben and I thought Penny was just going through a moody, pre-teen phase. After a while, I suspected it was something more.”

“Was it when he asked to get his hair cut short?” Wade asked curiously.

“Hah,” May laughed sarcastically, “He didn’t ask. One day, when he was twelve, back when he still went by Penny, she came home from what I thought was school with her hair cut short. Like a boy’s. She just strolled into the house and sat down on the couch like it was nothing.” She chuckled at the memory. “The look Ben and I shot each other was probably comical. But we didn’t say anything, not in front of Penny. We talked after she had gone to bed. Ben just thought that Penny was a lesbian. But, to answer your question, the haircut was an indicator for me. The fact that she would do that without telling us, as if she were afraid we would ever say no. And by that point, she was mainly dressing in baggy hoodies and Vans anyway. I wasn’t surprised when Peter came out to Ben and me.”

“I bet that wasn’t easy, raising a trans kid,” Wade said sympathetically.

May hummed in agreement. “It’s… confusing, in the beginning. And then, a lot of worrying. I constantly worry that he’s not happy with himself, or that he needs something and doesn’t feel like he can come to me. And it’s a lot of feeling helpless. I can love and accept Peter as much as all possible, and I do. But I can’t make other people accept him, or take the time to get to know what a wonderful person he is. I can’t make people change their bigoted views. Before we had Peter, I knew people had views like that. But… but when it’s intolerant of someone you love? It’s heartbreaking. I can’t be there to stop people from being cruel.”

Wade stared at Peter’s aunt thoughtfully before speaking. “He’s lucky to have you, ya know,” Wade said in his rough voice.

“He’s lucky to have you, Wade,” May responded, “Peter is happier than I have seen him in a very long time. I think you’re good for him. You being around makes me worry less.”

“I am making a verbal declaration that I refuse to cry in front of you on this day,” Wade announced halfheartedly, his voice gravelly from _not_ being on the verge of tears because he was a mercenary goddammit! 

Aunt May laughed breathlessly. “Well, how about some crochet lessons, then? If you can manage to get the yarn without bringing the rest of the house down, that is,” the woman smirked.

Wade shot her a playful look. “Whatever you say, Aunt May,” he joked as he stood up and then helped Aunt May to her feet. He grabbed the yarn basket down and picked up the last few old photos, securing them in the box before returning it to its place on the shelf.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, firstly, I would like to say that not all bats have echolocation, only the ones that need to hunt live pray.
> 
> Now that that's cleared up, I want to say that I really hope you guys like it! I wanted to use this to beef out some detail on Peter's past and what it was like for him living with his aunt and uncle and all of that good mess. 
> 
> Let me know what you think!


End file.
